


Coast

by InsomniacCoffee



Series: Rare Pair Manifesto [1]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: 1980s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Female Character, But will be explained/tagged when the chapter comes, Crush at First Sight, F/M, Godklok, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, North Carolina, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Dethklok, Pre-Snakes N' Barrels, They are so fucking awkward i'm sorry, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, Will contain a scene of a flashback scene of an OC attempting murder on a character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniacCoffee/pseuds/InsomniacCoffee
Summary: In January 1985, Pickles ran away from his family and the life he knew in the town of Tomahawk, Wisconsin to head to California in hopes of making his dreams come true. The only problem is that due to one mistake and a few circumstances along the way,  he ends up in Wilson, North Carolina. With little money left, he has no choice but to head to the local pawn shop where he meets the pawnshop owner and his granddaughter, Abigail; a very shy and talented high school student who lives alone most of the time. What was meant to be an overnight visit as her house turned into a week-long stay where they end up realizing they may just have more in common than they think, and for reasons that no one would really expect.
Relationships: Pickles the Drummer/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc
Series: Rare Pair Manifesto [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134902
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	Coast

**Author's Note:**

> After nearly six months of shipping this incredibly rare pairing, outlining a rather complex story for them and still working on it....here's a fic of them that took me a month to write instead :D This was probably the hardest story to write simply because of the fact there's been no fics on this pairing so I had no real idea of what people would expect of this pairing. It took a whole lot of listening to Devin Townsend's Ki album to finally get this first chapter done but I'm pleased with the result!
> 
> I need to think a lot of people for being so encouraging when I wasn't sure if the pairing wouldn't be received well. Now that it's 2021, I learned to be feral, write what I want and have a good time but I need to thank people for getting me to this point. Thanks to [ladyjaneslay1554](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjaneslay1554), [heymurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heymurphy), and [getting-sloppy](https://getting-sloppy.tumblr.com) for being the first few people I told about the pairing and/or shared ideas with and being absolutely open and encouraging to my ideas. [wumbo_requiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wumbo_requiem), [TheBraillebarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBraillebarian), [little_murmaider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_murmaider), [ggywnbleidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggwynbleidd), [glukupikron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glukupikron), [agaricales](https://agaricales.tumblr.com), [feeshies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeshies) and [DynamesVirtue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DynamesVirtue) for definitely helping part in this story with one way or another. A special thank you to [ThisisVenereVeritas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas) for helping edit/read this story!  
> And finally, thanks to the rest of the rats and the discord server for helping me with any trouble I had with the story and the encouragement I needed. <3

The sound of coins clinking against another into the coin slot was drowned out by the commotion of the bus station. He had to press the phone closer to his ear just to hear the dial tone, somehow softer thanks to continuous use and lack of maintenance. He could take it as a sign to simply not call her at all but his fingers decided for him and dialed in the number he knew by heart. It took a few rings. A part of him hoped she wouldn’t respond, but another desperately needed to talk to someone. By the third ring, it cut midway and he heard the sound of a familiar voice. Relief and fear washed over him but he held the phone tighter, “Hey, Rabbit? It’s Pickles.” 

On the other end of the line, it took just a second of silence before she responded, “Oh, Pickles! We’ve missed you, dude! How are you?” 

A pang of guilt and pain quickly replaced his feelings once he heard her voice, “I’ve missed you guys too. I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“Oh? Well, what’s up?” 

He felt reluctant to even say. Was it even his fault it happened? Well, he supposed it might be if he even ended up in that situation, “Okay, I did something stupid.”

“Pickles…?” She asked warily. 

“....”

Her tone shifted to one of urgency when he didn’t respond. There was the sound of shuffling as if she was checking to make sure the line didn’t just cut off, “What the fuck did you do?”

“I-some jackass stole my stuff!” He shouted louder than he had meant to. He could almost hear the people waiting for their turn collectively groan knowing the conversation would take a while.

“Wait, what happened? Are you okay?” 

“I tried hitchhiking. Got unlucky, I guess…,” 

“Christ...where are you calling from?”

He turned his head to look around for any hint of his location. He did eventually find a sign giving their location and for a moment, he wondered if she would even believe him, “....Wilson, North Carolina. In a bus station though so uh, we probably don’t have much time left to talk-sorry.” 

“North Carol- _right_ , I’ll save the important questions later. Do you have any cash with you?” 

“Kinda...I managed to take what I could before the dude ditched me. I’ll have to go to pawn it off.”

“Is there a Western Union around there?” 

“No, please, don’t-you guys already did-”

He was quickly cut short, both to save time and lack of patience. “Too late, gonna send you money so you better pick it up. But this is gonna be the last time we can send you money, we’re kinda short on cash, y’know?”

“Y-Yeah, I promise I will pay you guys back….Thanks.”

“Not a problem. But you sure you're okay there? How did you even get there anyway? Was it because of that person who robbed you?”

“Well...not exactly…” He shuffled his feet, both out of awkwardness and the fact they were killing him. Even he had a hard time believing it but the area itself was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t dreaming, “Okay, don’t laugh.”

“No promises.” Ironically enough, she definitely did keep that as a promise.

“Okay. I ended up in Hollywood-” 

“Hollywood? Isn’t that where-”

“South Carolina,” He said quickly in hopes she wouldn’t hear. 

It seemed that she did by the fact she was laughing so loudly he had to pull the phone away so he wouldn’t lose his hearing, “You douchebag!”

“I-I’m sorry, Pickles, but Hollywood, _South Carolina_?!” She was hard to hear because of her laughing. 

“Hey, wasn’t it you or Hawk or whoever else who bought me the damn tickets?!” 

“You know Hawk can’t read.” It must’ve been a full minute before she calmed down, “Okay, okay, you gotta tell me about all this later. I’m sorry, though, Pickles-I’ll try and send enough to cover the bus ride to California.”

“Actually…” He paused for a moment, clutching the phone closer to his ear. His other hand was playing with the phone cord impatiently just to have something to fidget with, “Can you just send me enough to get back home?”

“Pickles.” All amusement from her voice quickly faded.

“I know, I know, but-”

“Listen, you’ve worked so hard for this. I know that it’s tough now but you can’t just give up now anyway. You gotta give this a shot, we got you to where you are now….even if it’s in a place like North Carolina. This could just be a way of preparing you for what lies ahead. You survived up to this phone call, didn’t you?” 

Pickles wasn’t sure if he could even answer that. He was sure he made a mistake at that point. Even if his parents were the worst people to live with, at least he had a roof under his head, and a warm bed to sleep in. His stuff wasn’t stolen (by strangers, at least), he wasn’t tired or hungry or just wandering aimlessly around. “...I...guess you’re right, Rabbit. Thanks.” 

“Good. I can’t send you money right now but I will tomorrow morning. Think you can hold yourself up for a bit overnight?” 

He didn’t know what he could do but he figured he’d manage, “I can, don’t worry about it.” He answered. He really didn’t know if he could but he didn’t want to worry her more.

“Okay, great. Just call me tomorrow or before you leave when you get a chance okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you, Rabbit.” 

“See you, Pickles.” 

He hung up before he could stop himself. In all honesty, he just wanted to sleep in a nice place for once but he knew most likely he would be stuck sleeping in the streets. No way he was gonna trust a stranger again for a while. 

He hung around the payphone longer than he should’ve before he could feel the glares of the people in front of him. He quickly left before the man in front of him looked ready to shove him. He clutched the chords of his drawstring bag just a bit closer to him. He tried his best to look like someone who had somewhere important to go but it was hard to look that way with his appearance and he knew it. 

He managed to find the restrooms and none of them had lines. It was located in the part of the bus station not even used so he had to assume he had stumbled across one of the lesser-known ones. Without another thought, he walked into the men’s bathroom where it was empty. Despite that, he went to one of the stalls and locked it. He leaned against the stall, closing his eyes and trying to relax in the few brief moments of alone time he knew he would get. He almost found himself dozing off until he heard the sound of someone entering the bathroom. 

Despite the fact the chances of the stranger being suspicious of a locked stall were slim, it still made him nervous. He hadn’t even used a bathroom since he got on the bus last night so it was only until he pulled his pants down was he reminded of that fact. 

By the time he finished, the man had gone to the sink to wash his hands before leaving without another sound. Once again he was alone and it felt like he could breathe again.

He wanted to blame the poor lighting on how he looked but he knew that wasn’t the excuse for his appearance. There was a black eye, still purple and bruised thanks to that stupid douchebag. There were cuts and bruises on his cheeks and neck as well, just slowly healing but it would’ve looked recent to anyone passing him a sparing glance. He was lucky enough to have a scarf in his bag to hide his neck but there was nothing to be done about his face.

His hair was disheveled, even more than usual to the point a brush wouldn’t fix it. His sunken eyes from little sleep were only more apparent thanks to his pale skin, but it seemed like it was almost sickly pale. Maybe it was the lighting? God, he hoped he wouldn’t be getting sick. He literally couldn’t afford to get sick. He had to feel his forehead, ignoring the tender bruise that hurt just touching it. He was warm but not hot; he supposed that was a good sign.

He quickly forgot about his worries the moment he felt the usual pang of hunger. It hurt more than it did before and he was almost certain that it was just the signal he was officially dying. The moment had passed and he was still breathing but he knew that he couldn’t go on without eating for long. He felt his pockets for change and placed them on the counter to count.

Four quarters, Five nickels, six dimes, and a whole boatload of pennies. He pulled the bag off his shoulders and set it on the counter. Only a few random pieces of clothing, a map, polaroids, and a small black drawstring pouch. It was heavy just pulling it out. 

There were a few dollar bills, his father and brother’s Rolex watches, and whatever he managed to steal from his mother’s jewelry box. Stealing wasn’t exactly the right word for that, though. In the brief time between him being born to the garage burning down, he clung to his mother as any child would. And she had accepted it, had even been the first one to give him the love and kindness any decent mother should. The last good memory he ever had with her was showing him the jewelry box and even letting him try on the jewelry that would’ve been his.

“Your great great _great_ grandmother started the tradition of passing down jewelry. Your grandmother gave this to me when I turned sixteen and I will give them to you when you turn sixteen too. And one day, you can give this to your daughter, too,” She had told him. She had given compliments as freely as the gossip she would soon give about him to her church friends. The rumors wouldn’t start until a year later, though. At that moment, he simply accepted her love and pretended to be interested in the jewelry and dresses that clearly should’ve meant something to him.

Not even a month after that did Seth burn down the garage, blame Pickles, and the kindness and love he once was showered with vanished. His mother hid the jewelry from him, and it wasn't until the night when he began preparing his escape, did he notice the small, velvet box lying on the counter. He was never shown the jewelry again by her and he never saw it until the night he began preparing to run away. As he stared at the jewelry on the counter, he wondered if he was right in even taking something that should’ve been his.

Well, he was sixteen and she never did specify it only had to be passed down to daughters only. He supposed it was only fair and chose to not let his mind wander further. It was better to not think too much about that at the moment.

It was jewelry that had been well maintained throughout the years. A few rings too small for his size, bracelets that just fell off his wrist, and necklaces that he never felt right wearing. If he chose to keep it, he wasn’t even sure if he could stay true to his mother’s wishes. Some part of him wanted to hold on to these trinkets, not so much out of maintaining traditions, but out of the mere fact that the unwanted adornments were the closest thing to family heirlooms.

But belonging to a family that he ran away from wouldn’t magically give him the money he desperately needed. Whatever his friends would give would only be enough for the bus ride, not for food or motels. He had to use the skills he was taught for that. 

He stared at it for longer than he should’ve before coming to a decision and putting the jewelry away. He cleared the counter and once he made sure he didn’t leave anything behind, he hoisted the bag’s strap over his shoulder. One more look in the mirror. Yep, he was still a mess. He adjusted his hair as best he could but with no brush or hair gel, it was still very ruffled. 

He was about to leave, hoping to find some vending machine for a snack until he saw something he must’ve overlooked earlier. A condom dispenser.

It was a white plain looking dispenser with three condom brands taped over each coin slot. Rust, grime, and grease covered the dispenser from years of use and neglect. It looked dirty, but he wondered how anyone could even bother using such a thing. The only that even looked well maintained were two padlocks that held the thing in place. It only meant that there was a high chance of coins possibly being inside. 

He opened the door just to check if anyone was near the bathroom. It seemed like the more used buses had already come and left with how empty the station was in comparison to when he first arrived. He had a chance. 

He closed the door and locked it before rummaging through his bag. He pulled out two broken bobby pins and inspected the lock before remembering what he had to do and began picking the lock. It was a generic brand and simply required some patience at unlocking each pin inside the lock. At the last pin, he felt it unlock and pulled it off before he moved onto the second lock. The process was a bit faster now that he remembered the process and he was able to eventually pull the locks off. Even though no one had tried to go to the bathroom, he knew he couldn’t stall time.

He opened the door to the dispenser, quickly surveying the near-empty condoms before finding the small box that would’ve been where the coins dropped into. He carefully pulled it out, feeling how heavy the box was. It was full of various quarters and he almost felt tempted to just steal them all for himself. That would be more than enough to at least stay at a motel, buy a nice meal, and his mouth almost watered at the idea of getting to eat hamburgers and fries fresh off the grill.

He had to be careful, though. He had no idea how this place was with security cameras and since he was staying in the town longer than a few hours, it was best to be careful.

He stole about three bucks worth of quarters before he put the box back and put the locks back in place. Making sure it was just as he left it, Pickles left the bathroom. No one looked at him suspiciously other than glancing briefly at the bruises on his face and he knew what it must’ve looked like to them. He ignored the glances and simply focused on trying to find a vending machine.

There was only a Coca Cola machine next to the map of the town, a bench just right under it. Other than an old man using a newspaper, there was enough space for him to sit if he got a drink. Since there were still people in the station, he couldn’t pick the lock to the vending machine. He quickly surveyed the options to look like he was putting thought into an easy decision before going with Coke. Making sure there was no leftover change on the return slot, he reached into his pocket and inserted all of the pennies he had before inserting whatever coins would count for the total. Once he got his 4 pennies in change and coke, he sat down on the bench.

It was a lot quieter with the noise of people talking, the overhead speakers announcing the next bus departures or delays, and whatever other noises were mixed in. The air was just slightly colder now and the cold drink didn’t help but it was something that at least calmed his hunger for a bit. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with people as he tried to figure out what he could possibly do. He mentally ran through the money he had and knew it wasn’t nearly enough for a motel. It was January, so sleeping outside wasn’t an option. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for just a few moments of rest. 

Bed. Food. Guitar. Music. Hamburgers. 

His mind only reminded him of the predicament he was in and the things he missed. He felt like he could almost scream and cry out of frustration. Between the truck incident, the wrong bus, and everything else, he felt he hadn't gone back to square one, but back a few hundred feet. There was nothing he could really do though other than continuing on. Even resting for a few seconds counted as stalling and he was sure that if he had the money then, he would be on the bus to Wisconsin begging his parents to take him back. Some hope that maybe they regretted everything, called the police, and now they’re looking for him drifted through his mind. He knew the answer.

He finished the soda, tossing it at a nearby trashcan before looking at the map. It wasn’t even that big of a town but the map made it look that way. As he surveyed the map, his eyes fell on the bulletin board beside it. It was covered in various business cards from locals for some free advertising. As Pickles scanned the business cards, one did catch his eye.

Wilson Pawn Shop.

It was located on Fairfax and he quickly looked at the map to try and find it. It wasn’t that far of a bus ride. Despite the dread and guilt he felt, he knew what he had to do. 

After figuring out the times of the local bus, he purchased a bus ticket and only had to wait a few minutes before he saw the bus number pull up. He walked outside, quickly met with the bitter cold air. It felt like someone splashed pure ice on his face and he could feel his body freeze just from the dash to the station to the bus. After handing the bus driver the ticket, he took a seat near the back. The bus was thankfully warm for once but he knew it would take a few minutes before his fingers and ears stopped feeling frozen. He set his bag beside him and rummaged through it. He had a sweatshirt at least; it was nothing against the winter air but it would do enough. He had to take off his leather jacket to put on the sweatshirt and jacket but it helped. He put the hood up over his head and secured it tightly as a makeshift hat. 

It took only a few minutes before the bus began its trek through the night. He could see the passing cars, streetlights, and for a moment, it felt like he was taking a bus ride home. The days were short but the experience of a day with his friends felt long and he always looked at the window full of contempt.

Now, he was miles away from his friends and the life he once knew. He wondered if he was making the right choice. He missed getting high on Rabbit’s garage listening to whatever Fleetwood Mac album had recently come out with the rest of his friends. He could really use a drink too.

For that moment, he allowed himself to feel sad. There was really only him and a few other people on the bus, not to mention the pawnshop was quite a few bus stops away. He couldn’t bring himself to let the feeling linger on for long or it would be hard to get out of it. There was at least one positive thing about being on a bus ride to a small shop; he had a few minutes to relax. No anxiety about being on the wrong bus or ending up on the wrong car ride. He had peace in those few minutes, and allowed himself to take advantage of the fleeting moment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream at me on [Tumblr](https://insomniac-pens.tumblr.com) and thanks for reading!


End file.
